Curtis Johnson Poet Narrative

His Name Was Reuben

I once knew a man who was tall and skinny.
I was 35 at the time with a small family.
If he had a family of his own. I knew not any.
His means was menial and his needs were many.
For this man, we did the best we could.
He knew what we believed in and where we stood.
He was homeless and hungry in our neighborhood.
We showed him God's love and gave him food.
He was gentle, kind, and never rude.
We first met in the winter of 1984 in San Francisco, and Reuben was his name.

We took him to a Golden State Warriors basketball game.
He also sat at our dinner table on Christ m as Day.

We felt privileged to meet him and help him through his pain.
Moreover, because of Reuben
My life was never the same.

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